


Mother Henn

by boxoftheskyking



Series: Indelible Universe [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV), two two one bravo baker - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-09
Updated: 2011-12-09
Packaged: 2017-10-27 02:54:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/290877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boxoftheskyking/pseuds/boxoftheskyking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“A wedding without a bride is certainly at a disadvantage,” Mrs. Henn says. “I’d always imagined this conversation, of course, but with a daughter-in-law.”<br/>“Really?” he says, deciding to joke off his discomfort. “Have you ever seen him talk to a woman he’s not related to by blood? It’s not pretty. At all.”<br/>She grants him a small smile. “Thomas has always been shy.”<br/>Billy gapes.</p><p>Billy McMath meets the mother-in-law.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mother Henn

**Author's Note:**

> Characters and situations are the creation of abundantlyqueer. Who is also a wonderful beta.
> 
> And, yes, we get to call him Billy now. We're there. We've reached that point.

Billy is pretty sure he’s never paid this much for a cup of black coffee.  He only ever drinks his coffee black; he’d never got a taste for it growing up and only drank it out of necessity in Afghanistan. At times, he’d even eat the dry instant coffee crystals, if there wasn’t water to be spared. Mrs. Henn orders a latte. So does the woman in front of her in line and the man behind Billy. Everyone else has to wait at the end of the counter for their drinks, but Billy gets his before he even pays. He stands awkwardly beside Mrs. Henn, until she suggests that he choose a table. So now they’re sitting at one of the little two-person tables, the kind that can barely hold two cups of coffee. Billy feels like a fucking rhinoceros; he can’t even rest his elbow on the table without getting in the way. He keeps his hands in his lap, trying to be smaller.

“So,” she begins with a small smile. “I’m sorry, Thomas always calls you Mac. Remind me of your name?”

“Mac is fine, ma’am. Or Billy. Whatever you like.”

“But it is William, isn’t it?”

Billy fumbles for a moment before responding. “Yes. Legally, yes.”

“I have to say, William,” she continues, perfectly at ease. “That I was quite surprised when Thomas announced the engagement. It was all very unexpected.”

“Believe me, our friends were surprised, too.” Billy gives a genuine smile. “We were so slow about it, they’d all given up on us ever getting our sh— sorting ourselves out.”

“Slow? Really? I was going to say it all seems rather sudden. After all, you’ve only known Thomas, what, two years?”

“About that long, yes.”

“And you’ve been … together for only a few months.”

“Well … yeah. But, I mean,” Billy swallows a sudden excess of saliva and tries not to sweat. “I mean we’ve known each other pretty, um, pretty well. In that time.”

“Not a very long time, though,” Mrs. Henn insists. “All of my daughters had rather long courtships. Three years was the shortest.”

Billy swallows again.

“It’s different, though, ma’am, getting to know someone when you’re fighting alongside them.”

“Oh?”

“I mean. Obviously, yeah. Um.” He thinks for a moment, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “Like— Well, put it this way. The second I met He— Tom, I knew I’d be happy to die for him. And that’s just the job. That’s where we started. I’d do anything to keep him alive; he’d do the same for me, for any of the guys. Most relationships take a while to get there.”

Mrs. Henn looks at him sharply. 

“I see,” she says. Billy squirms. “Either way,” she continues. “A battlefield hardly seems the place to strike up a romance.” Billy tries to discern judgment or disapproval, but her voice is carefully, politely blank. He waits for a moment, but Mrs. Henn says nothing and takes a sip of her latte.

“Well,” he flounders. “I mean— You have to understand,  he’s really impressive there. In his element, you know?”

“Oh?” Billy really wishes she would give him some sort of sign as to whether or not he’s doing well. Her face is pleasant and interested and unreadable. 

“Yeah,” he starts. “I mean, it’s what he was born for—”

Mrs. Henn purses her lips and looks down at her latte. Billy backpedals.

“I mean, he’s really, really good. It’s a natural thing for him; it’s in his bones, you know? We’ll be on patrol, right? And he’ll be teasing you, joking around, and then he’ll just shove you down behind a wall or something and the next thing you know you’re under fire. And he’s still talking, normal as anything, returning fire like— Well, like taking out the trash or something. Just does his job. Doesn’t even break conversation. It’s incredible."

Mrs. Henn’s eyes widen slightly and her knuckles tighten around her cup. Billy blushes.

“Sorry, I get a little— Well, obviously I think he’s … wonderful. Um.”

“Thomas doesn’t talk about the fighting.” Her voice was very stiff.

Billy turns even redder. “Oh, God, I’m sorry. It must sound— We get used to it, so it’s just another day, but— I’m sorry,” he mumbles and takes a gulp of coffee.

“In your opinion as Thomas’s friend,” Mrs. Henn says after a moment. “Do you think he intends to stay in the army for very long?”

Billy stares at her. “The Marines, you mean? Uh. Yeah. Yes, I do.”

She sighs. “So university is off for yet another ‘few years.’” Her mouth looks sour.

“University?” Billy asked in surprise.

“Yes, of course.” She waves a hand. “We sent him to Eton, of course he’s going to university.”

“I— Does he want to?”

“Of course he wants to. Fighting isn’t a  _career_ , after all. He’s coming to the age when he needs to start thinking of his future.”

“I think he is,” Billy says slowly. “He is getting married, after all.”

She purses her lips and takes another drink.

“He’s very, very good at his job, Mrs. Henn,” Billy says sincerely. “Major Burrows wants him to apply for a commission. He’d be an officer,” he looks to her for a reaction, but sees nothing. He grits his teeth and  forges on, “a  _real_ officer, a Lieutenant to start, and a Captain in a couple of years, I bet.”

She looks away and does not respond. Billy takes another drink.

“My ma,” he says, smiling. “Calls him ‘lieutenant’ behind his back. If I ever correct her she just shushes me and goes, ‘Well he should be, so it what does it matter?’” Billy chuckles. Mrs. Henn does not.

“And your father?”

“My father— Oh, what does he think of Tom?” Billy grins again. “To be honest, I couldn’t have invented a better guy to bring home. But, I mean, my dad was in the navy, so …”

“Yes, I remember Thomas mentioned that the military is something of a tradition in your family.”

“Yeah, loads of us. My dad was and my sister is, right now, and my little brother is planning—”

“I’m sorry,” Mrs. Henn interrupts. “Your sister?”

“My sister, Cora, yeah.”

“Thomas didn’t mention that you had a sister.”

Billy shrugs. “I’m not too surprised. He’s only met her a few times. But yeah, Cora’s a Petty Officer on HMS Cornwall.”

Mrs. Henn opens her mouth to respond, then takes a sip of latte. “That’s very … that’s nice. And your father, what does he do now?”

“He’s actually self-employed now. An electrician.”

“Ah.”

Billy nods, smiling at her mildly. She picks delicately at the base of her fingernail for a moment.

“And will you be joining him once you leave the service?”

“No, it’s not really my thing. I’m thinking of going back to university, actually.”

“Oh?” Mrs. Henn looks genuinely surprised.

“At some point, yeah. A couple years down the line, maybe. I’d like to teach, I think.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Billy shrugs. “Tom told me your husband teaches, right?”

“Mr. Henn is a Professor of History at the London School of Economics,” she says, sitting up straighter.

“Right. I don’t think I’ll be going there.” Billy laughs, and Mrs. Henn smiles tightly for a moment.

“My husband and I have high expectations for our son,” she says, somewhat abruptly. “I’m sure you understand our belief that he could amount to quite a lot if he were to simply apply himself.”

“He does, though. You know that, right? You have to know how hard he worked to get—”

“Into the commandos, yes, I’ve heard it a thousand times.” Her jaw is tight and she flicks one hand sharply, as if shaking off a drop of water.

“Mrs. Henn,” Billy begins carefully. “I understand that you expect a lot from Tom. Really, I do. But you have to know how much he’s achieved. I’ve seen all of it. I mean, I have seniority over him and evaluating without bias … he is remarkable. He’s excellent at his job, he can take responsibility and exert authority – the men trust him, they want to follow him. You must be very, very proud of him. I’m sure you are.” His eyes are soft and earnest when he says it, but his voice has a steely edge.

Mrs. Henn opens her mouth to respond, but changes her mind and nods.

“Of course,” she says, not looking at him. “Of course, we’re very proud.”

There is a long pause.

“Have you picked your colors?” she finally asks.

“Sorry, colors?”

“For the wedding. The girls will want to know.”

“Oh,” Billy starts to blow out a loud breath, but catches himself in the middle, feeling embarrassed. “No. No, we haven’t really talked about it. We only just told the best men, what, on Thursday?”

“A wedding without a bride is certainly at a disadvantage,” she says. “I’d always imagined this conversation, of course, but with a daughter-in-law.”

“Really?” he says, deciding to joke off his discomfort. “Have you ever seen him talk to a woman he’s not related to by blood? It’s not pretty. At all.”

She grants him a small smile. “Thomas has always been shy.”

Billy gapes.

“Around girls, at least,” Mrs. Henn amends. “They’re always rather forward with him.”

“I see,” Billy says, biting down a broad grin.

“Make sure you run the details by at least a few women before making any final decisions. Good lord, I can imagine my wedding if Mr. Henn had planned it himself. We’d have had a ten minute ceremony and the men would have been in _brown_.”

“So not brown, then.”

Mrs. Henn smiles primly. “You’ve selected your best men, you said?”

“Yeah, two guys from our section.”

“Other commandos.”

“Ye-es?” Billy says uncertainly. Mrs. Henn sighs, just barely audible. “They’re pretty stoked,” he says brightly, bravely holding up his smile. “Henry started sweating over the speech the second I told him, and I think the stag do’s probably half planned already.”

Mrs. Henn meets his eyes with an expression of polite distaste. Billy trails off, looking down into the dregs of his coffee. Mrs. Henn glances at the empty cup and straightens with flick of her wristwatch and a carefully practiced look of regret.

“Oh dear! It’s going on one already. I’m afraid I do have to run—hair appointment, shopping, and before you know it, it’s dinner! You understand, I hope?”

“Yeah. I mean, yes, of course.” She stands and Billy rises , bumping the underside of the table with his thighs. Her latte—still nearly half-full—sloshes over the edge to pool on the varnished wood. Billy blushes. Mrs. Henn pulls on her jacket and delicately picks up her handbag. Billy follows, awkwardly, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

“We must do this again sometime, William,” she says with a choreographed smile. Billy nods and mumbles an affirmative.

She leans up to place a peck somewhere in the air near his cheek and turns towards the parking lot. “Give my love to Thomas,” she calls behind her, pulling out her keys and unlocking her car doors with a musical beep. Billy gives a small wave and heads off in the other direction, rolling his shoulders and blowing out a long breath.

He stops on the corner and takes a moment before calling Henn.

“Hullo!” Henn answers brightly over the sound of running water. There’s a clattering and the slam of a cupboard.

“Hey. Where are you?”

“In the kitchen. Just did the dishes, finally. How are you?”

“Um, not—”

“Was it awful?”

“Awful? No, it was— yeah it was pretty bad.”

“Oh well,” Henn says brightly. “Over and done with now.”

“She’s your mum, Tom. It’s not over and done.”

“You know what I mean. Don’t worry about it. Just come home. We’ll fuck, you’ll feel better.”

“She doesn’t think I’m good enough for you,” Billy blurts out, trying to make it sound nonchalant instead of strained.

“She said that?” 

“No. But I’m not an idiot.”

“I’m the baby, Mac. She doesn’t think anyone’s good enough for me.”

“No, it’s more than—”

“Mac,” Henn cuts him off. “Come home.”

Billy blows out a sigh and scrubs his hand over his forehead.

“I really did try,” he says quietly.

“I know you did. You always do. It’s okay.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Mac.”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“Yeah.”

“Come home.” 

Billy smiles, squinting as a passing cab reflects afternoon sun straight into his eyes. “On my way, baby boy. I’m on my way.”

 

\----------------------------------

 

 **Epilogue**

 **[How to make up for the fact that your mother is actually a demon]**

“Hey.” Tom looks up from his spot on the couch as Billy walks into the living room, dropping his coat over the back of the armchair.

“Hello,” Billy sighs, smiling warmly at him. Tom rises to meet him and slides his arms around his waist. Billy settles his own around Tom and breathes in deep. 

“That bad, huh?” 

Billy shakes his head and grunts, shifting his head to find a more comfortable position against Tom’s hair. Tom doesn’t push the subject, instead nuzzling into Billy’s neck and closing his eyes. They are still for a long while before Billy finally speaks.

“This is what I wanted,” he says quietly.

“Hmm?”

“All those months. The whole time. This is it. Just this.” He feels Tom’s cheek shift against his neck in a smile.

“And now you’ve got it,” Tom murmurs.

“Now I’ve got it.”

“For as long as you want.”

“Yeah?”

“‘Course.”

“Hmm. Rest of my life sound all right?”

“Fine with me.”

There’s another long pause, the only sound the soft brush of Billy’s thumb against the fabric of Tom’s shirt.

“We will have to let go at some point, you know.” Tom doesn’t sound impatient, but his voice is oddly loud in the still of the room.

“You think so?” Billy says sleepily, nuzzling further into his hair. "I'm pretty comfortable here."

“Yes we _will_.” Tom twists his face out of the crook of Billy’s neck. “Eventually one of us is going to have to take a shit.”

Billy snorts and squeezes him tighter before releasing him far enough to look him in the eye.

“Ah, my Tom,” Billy grins. “Soul of a poet.”

Tom sticks his tongue between his teeth. 

Billy leans forward and murmurs, “Mouth of a Commando,”  into his parted lips. 

Tom kisses him firmly, then pulls back a few inches. “I love you,” he says with an impish smile. Billy leans in, but Tom allows barely a brush of lips before he pulls back to almost arms length.

“I love you,” he says again, with the same teasing smile. Billy steps forward, but again Tom pulls back after the shortest of kisses. He twists out of Billy’s arms and takes a few steps away before saying it again. “I love you.” Billy laughs aloud and lunges after him. He manages a full meeting of open mouths before Tom wrestles out of his grip and darts across the room to the foot of the stairs, vaulting over the corner of the couch. Billy waits, alert, as Tom half turns towards him, biting his lip and bowing his head in a manner that is just on the naughty side of shy. He looks up at Billy and sets his foot on the bottom step.

“I love you,” he says, and takes off up the stairs.

Billy, as always, chases after.


End file.
